


Reaching

by callunavulgari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Lives, Gen, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t know that Allison liked her tacos with mango chutney or that she had an intense love/hate relationship with Taylor Swift. Lydia knew that. Scott knew that. But Stiles was good with a gun and a fast learner when it came to everything else. These days, she couldn’t ask for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaching

**Author's Note:**

> Meme thing for tumblr. transientparadox asked for C and 13, which was zombie apocalpyse and Allison Argent! Stiles came along for the ride because I love their dynamic together. Probably would have fit Derek in there too if I wanted this to spawn a billion words.

This close to the coast, the air smells crisp. Fresh. Sea salt in the air and a cool breeze drifting down from the north. Once upon a time, Allison would have checked a weather app to see if a storm was rolling in. Would have liked it even, because she always did like storms.

Nowadays, a storm means danger. 

Nowadays, a storm can get them killed.

Even that ever present danger can’t dampen her spirits though, because here, the air is clean. Here, she can’t smell the dead, walking or otherwise. It’s almost like things are normal again, or as normal as her life ever gets.

“Storm’s rolling in,” Stiles tells her quietly, nudging their shoulders together.

Allison closes her eyes. 

“Yup,” she agrees, heaving a sigh, because it’s true. “Smells good though.”

Stiles snorts, dropping down onto the rock beside her, shotgun across his lap. Together, they watch the waves churn below them for another moment, soaking in the silence. They’ll have to get moving soon. Find some shelter. Food if they’re lucky. Maybe today will be a good day and they won’t even run into any rotters.

Stiles breathes out heavily, fidgeting with the gun in his lap. “We should keep looking,” he says eventually, reaching over as if to pat her hand. He stops halfway, fingers curling and uncurling before he pulls back.

 _Looking_ , Allison thinks darkly.  _Always looking_.

At first, looking for others had seemed like a good idea. They’d lost Lydia and Scott back in Beacon Hills, when a group of rotters had nearly overtaken them. They’d had the choice to either split up or die together, so Allison had grabbed the hand that was closest and made a break for it. That hand had just happened to belong to Stiles. 

By the time the danger had passed, Scott and Lydia were long gone. Alive, dead, who knew.

And maybe Allison had indulged in a bit of pettiness at first. Wished that it were Lydia who she’d grabbed, or even Scott. It wasn’t a slight against Stiles exactly, she was just closer to them. For all the time that they’d spent together and for all that she considered him a friend, she and Stiles had never really clicked. Stiles didn’t know that she liked her tacos with mango chutney or that she had an intense love/hate relationship with Taylor Swift. Lydia knew that. Scott knew that.

She’d gotten over that bit of nonsense the first time that Stiles had saved her life. He was good with a gun and a fast learner when it came to everything else. These days, she couldn’t ask for more.

“We should stay for the night,” she tells him, eyes still on the horizon. “Make camp here and wait out the storm.”

Stiles gives her a look, one eyebrow raised skeptically as he pointedly takes in their surroundings. Allison just shrugs. “It’s secluded. Not many rotters up here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles drawls, dragging out the vowels molasses slow. “But if some  _do_  show up we will quite  _literally_  be backed up against a cliff. Long drop, short stop. Kersplat.”

“They won’t.”

Stiles stares at her for another minute, his eyes shrewd, jaw clenched. She can tell the exact moment that he gives in, the stubborn glint going out of his eyes before his shoulders slump.

“Fine,” he grouses. “But tomorrow we’re moving on.”

Allison nods, shooting him a quick smile. She doesn’t mention that at this point, the likelihood of finding Scott and Lydia is slim to none. They have better odds of finding Kira or Derek, and they weren’t even in the state when things went down. Stiles is a smart guy, so the chances are that he already knows. For now, they have fresh air, a nice view, and a coming storm to wait out.

“Yeah,” she sighs, letting her head drop down onto his shoulder. This time, he doesn’t flinch, just wraps an arm around her and settles back into the trunk of the tree. “Tomorrow.”

 


End file.
